


Back for a new life

by Lesatha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence, not too graphic, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesatha/pseuds/Lesatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, Derek. It’s Scott. I know you’re probably busy right now but, uh… I think you should come back. It’s… it’s about Stiles. Please come back.”</p>
<p>Derek comes back to Beacon Hills for Stiles, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back for a new life

**Author's Note:**

> AU set in season 5, after Stiles kills Donovan.

_“Hey, Derek. It’s Scott. I know you’re probably busy right now but, uh… I think you should come back. It’s… it’s about Stiles. Please come back.”_

First Derek looked at his phone as if Scott’s voice message would magically tell him more. Then he cursed the werewolf for not being clearer. Because if something was wrong enough with Stiles that they needed Derek back in Beacon Hills, McCall could at least say what happened –Derek wouldn’t be standing here with his heart trying to jump out of his chest and hundreds of the worst scenarios whirling in his head.

Derek shouldn’t have left. He should have changed his mind like he wanted to when Stiles asked him to stay. But reason told him to leave. He didn’t have any pack or family left in Beacon Hills and he desperately needed to get away from that town. Had almost asked Stiles to come with him and stopped himself at the last second. Stiles had a pack and a family here. Derek wouldn’t ask him to choose, no matter how much he wanted him by his side.

And now, Stiles was in danger. He couldn’t be dead, Scott would have said it. He would have sounded sad, not anxious. Derek tightened his fist around the phone until the plastic case creaked under his fingers. No, breaking his phone wouldn’t help. He needed it.

He could call Stiles. Why didn’t he think about it sooner, instead of wanting to throw the phone against the wall? They almost hadn’t called or texted each other since Derek left, months ago. Stiles did and Derek answered in the shortest way possible. It would be easier if Stiles didn’t entertain the hope of Derek coming back. He was pretty sure the human would forget about him quickly with all the things that kept him busy in Beacon Hills. And he was right –after a while, Stiles didn’t call anymore. It was for the best.

It didn’t make Derek feel better.

He hit the call button, but went straight to voicemail. This wasn’t like Stiles.

Derek threw the phone into his pocket, packed his bag and booked a plane ticket. He was coming back to Beacon Hills. Back to Stiles.

 

***

 

“What do you mean, Stiles is gone?” Derek growled.

“He’s gone,” Scott repeated, shifting on his feet. “We don’t know where he is.”

“We _might_ know,” Lydia corrected.

Derek sighed, massaging his temples. Calm, he had to stay calm. He had called for a restricted pack meeting as soon as he hit Beacon Hills’ ground and he regretted it. Maybe he should have went straight on a Stiles’ hunt, by himself.

“So, do you or don’t you know where he is? What the hell is happening here?”

Lydia glanced at Scott, who massaged his neck in embarrassment. Derek felt torn between needing to know and fearing the answer.

“He isn’t part of the pack anymore,” the younger werewolf admitted.

A long silence settled in. Derek couldn’t have heard correctly. Or he was more jetlagged than he believed. His eyes went from Lydia to Scott several time, then settled on the werewolf. If he still was an Alpha, Derek’s eyes would burn a bright red by now.

“What do you mean,” he asked slowly, “he isn’t pack anymore? Why would _Stiles_ not be a part of it? Did he leave?”

“No. I told him to…” Scott hesitated. “He killed someone.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. This didn’t make any sense.

“What did you tell him? No, better, tell me what happened from the start and explain why no one knows where Stiles – _Stiles_ – is.”

Scott took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.

“Stiles murdered a guy, a chimera. We argued and I told him to… to leave the pack. We can’t kill people.”

“How did it happen?”

“I wasn’t there. Another werewolf told me what Stiles had done.”

A low growl pushed at the back of Derek’s throat. He struggled to keep it down. He had to know every little detail and letting his anger grow wouldn’t help anyone. He shouldn’t have left.

“So? We know Stiles. He wouldn’t kill someone like that.”

“He did.”

“That’s what this other werewolf told you,” Derek countered, louder than before. “And you believed him? Who is that guy?”

“Theo,” Lydia said. “He arrived in Beacon Hills a few months ago.”

“And you trusted that guy over Stiles?” Derek asked Scott.

“Theo is trustworthy.”

Derek grunted. He didn’t care who Theo was, they would settle that point later if they had time.

“What happened after you kicked your best friend out of your pack?”

Scott glared at him, eyes flashing red.

“You weren’t here either, Derek. You have no idea what happened these past weeks–”

“Yes, I wasn’t, and I regret it every second now!” Derek exclaimed. “So enlighten me: what happened?”

The fight seemed to leave Scott all at once. He sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“We didn’t have much contact with him after that. A few days ago… uh, someone attacked his father. He’s in the hospital, the doctors still don’t know if he will survive his wounds. We tried to find Stiles but… he didn’t want to be found.”

“We did find him,” Lydia added. “Just before Scott called you. We fear he isn’t really Stiles anymore.”

Too much thoughts clouded Derek’s mind. He couldn’t picture the Sheriff dying. He didn’t want to picture Stiles’ pain. His throat suddenly felt very tight.

“What do you mean, he isn’t himself? Like with the Nogitsune?”

“Yes,” Scott replied. “We found him after his father was wounded and tried to stop him when he said he would find who did that. He looked more Nogitsune than Stiles. And he had the Nogitsune’s strength.”

Whatever Stiles had done back then, he could see in Scott’s eyes that it had been painful. Derek gave him a dry smile.

“I don’t know what Stiles did, but you deserved it. So you called me to find him? Or to get rid of Nogitsune? Oh no, I forgot, you don’t kill people.”

It was a low blow, he knew. He didn’t care.

“To find him,” Lydia said as Scott opened his mouth. “We can’t bring him back alone.”

“I don’t see how I could do better.”

Derek would try nonetheless. He would do anything for Stiles.

“You clearly have no idea how much Stiles cares about you,” Lydia declared with a humorless laugh. “You’re his best chance.”

“I don’t…”

“No, of course you don’t know,” Lydia interrupted. “You wouldn’t have left otherwise. I told Stiles he should talk with you but… not my place to say anything. You’ll have to work on your obliviousness once we manage to get Stiles back.”

“Obliviousness?”

“Later,” Lydia decided. “For now, let’s focus on Stiles. As I said, I think I now where he is.”

 

***

 

She led them to Derek’s old loft. He didn’t have time to wonder too much about why Stiles would come here –a pained yell caught all his attention.

“Stiles!” he exclaimed as he pushed the door open.

He rushed inside, Scott and Lydia close on his heels. Then he saw Stiles and stopped dead in his tracks. When he heard screaming, Derek thought he would find the human tied to a chair, beaten, or fighting with someone. Stiles wasn’t covered in blood like Derek had feared. The young man slumped against a wall, on the other hand… the scream probably came from him. Stiles stood in front of him, still and pale. He turned towards Derek, head tilted aside.

Derek would have felt the same if someone had punched him. Or tied him to an electrified fence. These eyes weren’t Stiles’. These eyes were cold and calculating, nothing like Stiles’ bright amber. Same for his smile. The Stiles Derek lov– _remembered_ had the most beautiful smile, sometimes turning into a wild laugh that made his nose scrunch up. This smile, here, wasn’t Stiles’.

“Nogitsune,” Derek whispered as he took a step forward.

Stiles laughed. A small, disdainful chuckle behind tight lips.

“No. Just me,” he replied. “And you, Derek. I’m glad to see you’re back.” His stare shifted to look somewhere behind the werewolf. “Did you call him, Scotty? Couldn’t handle big, bad Stiles alone?”

He giggled again, the sound sending cold sweat down Derek’s spine, and turned towards the man near the wall. Said man had sat up, his eyes a bright gold. A werewolf. Derek approached them with careful steps. This might not be Nogitsune, but it looked an awful lot like him. He stopped at a safe distance, beyond arm’s length, Scott and Lydia still behind him.

“If you’re not Nogi, what are you?” Derek asked.

Stiles turned his back on the unknown werewolf and faced Derek.

“Void,” the werewolf laughed behind Stiles.

“Shut up, Theo,” Stiles replied, calm and ominous.

“Void,” the other repeated, louder.

Stiles looked at Derek and shrugged, lips stretching into a helpless smile. He flicked his wrist and the werewolf, Theo, flied across the room until he hit another wall.

“Stop!” Scott shouted.

Derek spun on his heels to glare at him.

“Don’t talk.”

Derek needed time alone with Stiles, something he wouldn’t get. He had to understand who Theo was, why he lied about Stiles. Because Derek might have been on another continent when everything went downhill, yet he knew Stiles wouldn’t commit cold-blooded murder. So this Theo was a liar.

“He’s right Scotty,” Stiles chirped. “Better for you not to talk right now.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, and crossed the distance between him and Derek with sauntering steps. Derek struggled not to step back. This wasn’t Stiles. This wouldn’t have happened if Derek hadn’t left. And yet, these eyes were so painfully familiar.

“See, I have trouble controlling my murderous instincts,” Stiles chuckled.

“Stiles, please,” Derek said, reaching to touch his shoulder.

Stiles jerked away. The move hurt more than Derek liked to admit.

“Stiles,” the werewolf repeated, “let me help you.”

“Why did you have to call him, Scotty? I don’t need your help. Unless…” Stiles raised his arm and sent Theo across the room again, which ended with him lying near Stiles’ feet. “You want to help me kill him. This could be fun. After all, you and I, Derek, are killers.”

“Only when we don’t have a choice.” Derek stepped closer. There was a time Stiles sought comfort into his touch. “Only when we don’t have a choice.”

“Killing is killing, according to our Alpha,” Stiles replied.

“But that’s why you killed the chimera,” Derek whispered as he raised his hand. Stiles tracked the move but didn’t step away, so he brushed his fingers on the young man’s cheek. “You didn’t have a choice.”

Derek cupped his cheek and as Stiles blinked, he thought he saw the old Stiles, not Void.

“It was an accident,” the young man said, gaze lost. “Donovan tried to kill me, threatened to kill my dad… it was an accident. I just defended myself.”

“Pale skin and fragile bones,” Derek murmured while he stroked Stiles’ skin.

The amber eyes went from hollow to cold again as they shifted back to Derek.

“Yes. But now Donovan is dead and my dad might follow the same way.”

The force that hit Derek knocked the breath out of his lungs a second before he crashed against a wall. He fell in a heap on the ground, whimpering as pain washed over his whole body.

“Stiles!” Lydia exclaimed, then screamed in surprise.

Derek forced his eyes open. She, along with Scott, was pinned to the wall behind Stiles. He could see them tensing to free themselves from the power keeping them still and in Lydia’s case, trying to let out a piercing scream, to no avail. Near Stiles, Theo propped himself up on one elbow, grinning at Derek. Blood had ran down his nose and onto his chin.

“He’s void now,” Theo declared. “You can’t bring him back.”

“I believe I told _you_ to shut up.”

“What are you gonna do, Stiles? Throw me against the wall, break my bones? Go on. Let it out. Let your true power free.”

“Shut up,” Derek barked. He winced at the amused smile creeping on Stiles’ face. No, not Stiles. Void. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Void Stiles, that’s what I want.”

“That’s why you almost killed my dad.”

“Stop whining about your dad,” Theo hissed between gritted teeth. “He trusts Scott more than you. Maybe he loves him mor–”

Derek roared, too late to cover the taunt. Stiles didn’t pay attention to him. He stared at Theo as if thinking of the best way to kill him.

“Did you seriously believe I would join your pack after that?”

“If you don’t, maybe your dad won’t survive next time.”

Derek expected Stiles to snap and send the werewolf through the windows, but he limited his reaction to a snort.

“I don’t belong into a pack.”

Derek took his chance. He pushed himself onto his knees.

“You could be part of mine.”

Stiles fully turned to him. Good, the more he focused on Derek, the less he gave power to Theo’s influence. As Derek moved to stand up, Stiles shook his head once. Fine, they could talk like this too.

“Yours? Who would be in your pack? You and you?”

The werewolf ignored the blow, repeated to himself that the icy stare piercing through him wasn’t Stiles. However, the anger building in it certainly was Stiles’. Derek had seen it before and would recognize anywhere.

“You and I,” he replied.

There, he said it, had wanted to say it for a long time. He had always feared refusal but today what did he have to lose? He should have listened to his instinct and asked Stiles before all this mess started.

“You and I,” Stiles echoed. He seemed to contemplate the idea for a while, then approached Derek and slid his forefinger on the werewolf’s lower lip. “You fuck me a few times, leave even though I begged you, _begged you_ Derek, to stay, and now you come back to offer me a place in your pack?”

Behind him, still pinned against the wall, Scott made a questioning noise. Sighing, Stiles closed his fingers into a tight fist and seeing how Scott neck tensed, the pressure applied on it had to be heavy.

“No talking,” Stiles reminded him. “Let Derek explain himself.”

He slid his forefinger from Derek’s lip to his chin before cupping his jaw. His hand was so cold. The werewolf wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ wrist, not to push away nor threaten, but to ground him. Even though Stiles narrowed his eyes, he didn’t bat his hand away.

“Explain why you left, Derek. Why you left _me_.”

“I…”

His breath hitched in his throat. He treasured what he and Stiles had lived together –stolen moments of intimacy and trust between two fights against the monster of the week. Since he left Beacon Hills, Derek’s mind went back to these memories every day. Both of them stumbling onto Stiles’ bed after another bickering, Stiles giving him a winning blink on a summer afternoon after the pack almost caught them kissing. They had never talked about these moments together, although Stiles always talked about everything and anything. Until now, Derek had believed it all meant more to him than to Stiles, and he was okay with it.

Perhaps that’s what Lydia referred to when she mentioned obliviousness. Derek shivered as the thought crossed his mind. If he had misunderstood Stiles’ feelings and abandoned him… it was unbearable.

“I didn’t know it meant so much to you,” he whispered. “If I did, I swear–”

“You wouldn’t have left with nothing more than a curt nod and wishing I would stay safe? You wouldn’t have made clear you didn’t want me to call you?”

His grip on Derek’s jaw tightened. The werewolf nodded. The strength in his hold was more Void than Stiles. Stiles had the strength of a kitten compared to a werewolf. The pain wetting his eyes, however, this was Stiles. He wasn’t far under the surface.

“I would have asked you to come with me. I’m asking you.”

Stiles shivered and tried to retrieve his hand. Derek couldn’t afford it, not while they were so close to succeeding. He squeezed the thin wrist, although not to the point of pain, and stood up to bury his other hand in silky brown hair. If Stiles let him do all this, then they could beat Void.

“Liar,” Stiles said.

He shivered again and behind him, the two werewolves and the banshee gasped in pain. Stiles stared at Derek, wide-eyed and panting. He had forgotten about the others, about his power. He would kill them without even noticing. Derek let go of his wrist and cupped his face with both hands.

“Not a lie. We can wait until your dad heals and leave with him, have him transferred to another hospital when he feels better, in the country where I live. We’ll find a way like we always did.”

Derek heard someone gasp. As much as he wanted to check on Lydia and Scott, he didn’t dare look away from Stiles’ eyes. He was too afraid that if he did, he would break the tiny link between them.

“If he doesn’t make it…”

Stiles’ voice died down as his gaze trailed away. Derek gave him a little shake, stroking his cheekbones with both thumbs.

“Scott will give him the bite,” Derek declared, “and he will heal.”

“Scott,” Stiles hissed.

Derek wanted to slap himself. They were so close and he had to ruin all their work, damn it.

“It was all an awful mistake.” One Derek personally wouldn’t forgive, but he didn’t mention that detail. “He called me because he worried about you. He knows he messed up.” At that, Derek glanced at Scott, hoping the werewolf would understand that he shouldn’t protest. Not that he could speak, but still. “Please, Stiles. I need you back.” Derek closed his eyes and willed his heart to a slower pace. He pressed his nose into Stiles’ hair, like he did the last night they shared together. “I need my little spazz back.”

A sob caught in Stiles’ throat. A second later, relieved gasps filled the room. Derek didn’t need to open his eyes to know the others could move again. The tension left Stiles’ shoulders and he pressed himself to Derek’s chest. The werewolf wrapped his arms around him, giving all the comfort he could.

“Come with me, Stiles. I know you’re angry and I’ll let you sarcasm me to death for years to come if you wish, but come with me.”

Stiles’ weak laugh had to be the most beautiful thing Derek had ever heard. Except he also noticed the sound of clothes ruffling and feet hitting the floor lightning-fast. Lydia screamed and Derek opened his eyes a second too late, at the exact second Stiles sagged against him with a choked gasp.

Theo stood right behind the young man. Derek couldn’t see where his right hand was, but considering the position of his arm, it seemed to be plunged right into Stiles’ back.

“If I can’t have Void…”

Derek let his claws out and aimed for Theo’s face before he finished his sentence. Although the three bloody gashes he left there healed right away, it gave him time to step back with Stiles in his arms, fumbling with one hand to find the wound in his back. He felt warm blood trickle on his fingers, seeping through Stiles’ shirt.

“Scott!” he called.

He didn’t care that the Alpha was against killing –Derek wasn’t. He wanted him to keep Theo busy while he put Stiles safely behind him, after that he would settle this issue once and for all. At least Scott didn’t need more prompting. He jumped on Theo while Lydia ran across the room towards Derek and Stiles. The werewolf knelt on the ground, lowering the human gently with him. The young man whimpered, trying to push away.

“Shh, I know it hurts. Just a little a while, Stiles, just…” He looked up at Lydia, panicked. “I can’t find the wound.”

“Put him on his side, there. Between his shoulder blades.”

Derek ripped a part of his own shirt so that she could use it to stop the blood flow.

“I’m good,” Stiles grunted.

“You’ll argue later,” Derek replied, “when you’re not lying in your own blood.”

“I’ve got him,” Lydia said.

Derek had no desire to move away from Stiles. The human could claim he was fine, he still paled more and more with every passing second. If Derek had a den, warm and deep, where he could hide him, then he would feel somewhat better about leaving his side.

He wouldn’t lose Stiles now. Letting his wolf take over him, Derek howled. He hadn’t shifted into full wolf form for a long time, but it had never been so easy.

And when his jaws closed around Theo’s throat, he felt immensely satisfied.

 

***

 

“Ouch. I said ouch!”

“And I said keep still.”

Stiles did the exact opposite and tried to wriggle out of Derek’s grasp. Sighing, the werewolf kept him on the couch with an arm around his waist.

“Deaton told us to change your bandage once a day.”

“He’s overreacting, my dad is overreacting, you’re over– damn it Sourwolf!” Stiles yelped as Derek stripped the rest of his bandage away.

“You can take werewolf claws into your back with little to no complaint and yet you won’t let me change a dressing?”

Stiles craned his neck to glare at him.

“Can we hurry? We have to go to the hospital –Dad is bored out of his mind.”

“I know. You told me twice already.”

Derek placed his fingertips near the five claw marks Theo had left on Stiles’ back. Even though the wounds had needed stitches from Deaton, Theo hadn’t managed to hit anything vital. Derek had made sure he wouldn’t live to try again. Against Scott’s advice, but who cared.

Two days later, the Sheriff’s doctors had declared his life wasn’t endangered anymore. Only then, Stiles seemed able to breathe again. It didn’t erase his guilt regarding what had happened when he became Void, of course. This would take a lot of time and attention. Derek intended to make sure he had both.

“What are you doing? Counting my moles?”

Derek rolled his eyes as he put a new dressing over the healing wounds.

“Counting your stitches, since you insist on constantly pulling on them. There, you’re good.”

Stiles turned in Derek’s hold until he was half-sprawled on his lap, one leg wrapped behind Derek. The werewolf had no idea how this position could be comfortable, but he decided to trust Stiles’ content grin.

“Yes, I am,” the young man agreed.

 

***

 

“What are you doing? Counting my moles again?”

Stiles laid down on his stomach, face buried under a pillow. Derek tore himself from the beauty mark he was busy kissing on the small of Stiles’ back, and leant above Stiles. He pushed the pillow away and, putting his arms on either side of the young man’s head, nibbled on his neck.

“I think I missed one yesterday,” he whispered into Stiles’ skin.

“Like the day before that. You’re so bad at maths, Lydia would faint.”

“I’m distracted, that’s all.”

Stiles hummed sleepily, squirming backwards to bury himself further under Derek. Without opening his eyes, he waved at the general direction of his nape.

“I believe you missed one there.”

Derek trailed the back of his nails on the indicated area, following with a line of kisses. Stiles purred in approval as he wriggled, not so innocently rubbing himself against Derek.

“I don’t see anything,” Derek said in a solemn tone.

“Look better.”

“Alright. But don’t forget we’ll have to get up soon. I don’t think your dad would appreciate spending a whole day waiting for us at the airport.”

“Hmm.”

They had left Beacon Hills two months ago with promises to call often and to have the Sheriff visiting them during his holidays. Maybe Scott and the pack would come too, one day.

Stiles’ impatient little groan shook Derek out of his musing. The werewolf smiled down at him, even though Stiles couldn’t see it. He bent and kissed the fading scars left by Theo. This had healed too. Right under it, he spotted one of the many beauty marks covering Stiles’ back.

“One,” he said, kissing it before moving to the next. “Two… ah, missed this one. Three.”

Stiles chuckled, nose scrunching up a little.

“It’s okay, Der. We have a whole life to get the count right.”


End file.
